The Story Of An Unwilling Sue
by YouMumInDisguise
Summary: Lizzie is trapped within The Lord Of The Rings. Read as she struggles with fighting her Suethour, running from Legolas, and keeping things canon.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there my fellow fans! Hee Hee!

I hope you enjoy my new story! It has plenty of Legolas acti-

**NOT. MUCH. TIME**

-on within! My OC, Lizzie, is based off-

**SEND. HELP. TRAPPED**.

-a friend of mine! Her name isn't really-

**MARY. SUES. EVIL.**

-Lizzie, but she would kill me if I tried to use her real-

**TRYING. TO GET. CONTROL.**

-name! Tee hee!-

**THERE! I've got it! Look, there's not much time. My name is Lizzie, and I'm trapped in one of those terrible**-

-Without further ado, onto the story!-

**I've replaced her story with the real story. My story.**

Death is a funny thing. One minute you're there, the next, you're not. There are many ways to die. All of which bring trepidation. If you die naturally, you're nervous about what's to come. If you die by accident, you're scared about the pain. If you die on purpose, you're afraid about what your loved ones would think.

I was an accident. Not how I was born, stupid. But how I died.

I was walking home late from school, after I had detention. No, it wasn't my fault. I wasn't the 'bad girl' of the school. I hadn't started a fight to protect the honour of my best friend, or something like that. I just forgot my PE uniform. Several times.

Anyway, late walking home. I was just a street away from the train station, when I heard screeching tyres. I was hit by a drunk driver in a pink car. Not just any pink cars. This one had flowers on it. I was killed by a pink flower-infested car.

I died in the most unimaginative way. Not surprising, considering who controls this story. I didn't die protecting anyone. I wasn't fighting for life in the intensive care ward. I wasn't even sixteen yet. But I died a sucky death.

And that was when I woke up.

I wasn't reborn. I'm not that epic. I just woke up, on a particularly wet piece of ground. Looking around me, all I could see were lush autumn trees, dressed to the nines with beautiful shades of reds, yellows, and oranges.

I tried to stand, but immediately fell to the ground with a yelp of pain, with my skirts pooling around me. There was a dull throb coming from my knee. I groaned, and checked for the brace that was always on. Said brace was missing.

Wait, let me back-track a few sentences. '…my skirts pooling around me'. That made no sense. I checked my skirt. It was a -**beautiful light green, stitched with blacks and gold, reaching the ground. The hem was trimmed with golden lace, matching her beautiful flowing hair. The dress could not reach her level of beauty, though-** stupid colour of light green. The only good green is dark green. This was the colour of guacamole with too much sour cream. And it went to the ground. I would trip over that. Either way, last time I checked, I was wearing my school uniform. A stupid blue-checked, knee length dress. Not the guacamole dress I was wearing.

I did check over of my situation. Alone, in a slightly wet forest, that was obviously autumn –even though last I checked, it was summer-, alone, without my knee-brace, in a stupid dress. And I was alive. Stupid car.

There was only one thing left to do. Cry.

So I did. I cried, and cried. Let it be said now, I was a very emotional person. I cried over stupid things. Though I wasn't too bad. Failed test, cry. Girls being mean, go home then cry. Scratched knee, cry. I cried a lot, like I did now. Numerous tears went onto the stupid stupid dress; my eyes were surely red and puffed by now. I was sitting there, nearing the curl-up-and-hug-your-knees stage of crying, when I heard gentle thumping in the distance. I briefly paused my self-wallowing to raise my head. The hell was that noise? As it neared, the noise cleared out in to the constant tapping of hooves.

I turned towards the direction I could tell the horse was coming from, just in time for a beautiful white stallion burst into view from behind a tree. Atop the horse was a man unlike I had seen before. Beautiful golden hair, chiselled cheek bones, pointed ears -**beauty belonging to the gods alone. Matched only by the heroine of this story**-. The man slowed the horse down, stopping in the centre of the clearing. He dismounted his horse, and began walking towards me.

Wait. Pointer ears? I stared at those ears, gaping like a fish. Sweet dear god. There was two options. One: There's a cosplay competition, and no one told me. Or two: I was in some magical place where elves were real. Or I was delusional, but I'm ignoring that for now. Sadly though, I was leaning more toward the second. The man- elf, I now realised- moved with otherworldly grace.

I took in the elf's attire. He was garbed in full green, with the exception of his tights. TIGHTS! I was internally laughing at the poor, misguided soul.

He looked strangely familiar though, slightly like a certain movie character.

The elf had reached a metre or so away from me, when he stopped and crouched down to my crouched-down level. I looked up at him with fear, apparently obvious in my eyes. I knew this was obvious according to the man's opening introductory sentence.

"Do not be afraid, I will not hurt you. Tell me why a fair maiden such as yourself is all alone in the woods such a distance from Rivendell?"

Rivendell. Yeah, I would like to say I was all graceful and manner-ful and whatever other -ful you can think of. But, no.

"I-I-I-I-I-" That was the extent of my conversational abilities. I hated people- or elves, equal rights here- I didn't know.

"What is your name? Prettyboy asked me. I refused to acknowledge who I think he is.

Something changed then, something within me changed. A sort of power possessed me, forcing out words that were not my own.

"My name, My Lord, is Elizabeth, daughter of Modnar, and heir to the throne of The Land of America." What. The Hell. I wasn't even American! My Mum's name wasn't freaking Modnar, it was Jane!

Unbeknownst to me, due to my mental rant, I had stood up, and moved into a perfect curtsy. Prettyboy, upon hearing I was apparently royal, stood up straighter.

"I am most humbled to make your acquaintance, Lady Elizabeth. My name is Legolas Greenleaf, Heir to the Throne Of Mirkwood."

No. No NonononononoNO! His last name wasn't Greenleaf! Elves don't even have last names! I felt like, screaming, crying, and throwing a tantrum. I mean, he got his own name wrong! And used a non-elf greeting.

I tried to move, to run away, because I did not want any of this crap, but I was trapped within my own body. Yet again, I began spewing words that I had no control over.

"As for my purpose, I was riding to Rivendell to partake in a meeting concerning a most evil matter. But, before I could arrive, I was attacked by a band of orcs. My horse ran off, and I had given up hope just as you had arrived."

Prettyboy (not Legolas, damn fairy couldn't get his name right), being the gentleman (gentleelf? gentleperson?) he is, looked acceptably sad? disappointed? from hearing my tale of woe.

"For one such as yourself to have endured so much... May I offer you my horse, so that we may ride to Rivendell together?"

Let me get something straight. He may be an elf (something I wasn't a fan of) and have amnesia about how to elf and remember his name simultaneously, but he was hot. Not throw-myself-at-you-screaming-about-making-babies hot, but I wasn't going to say he was plain.

And the idea of riding with Prettyboy (not Legolas) with me pressed up against him... Well it was enough to make a 14-year-old girls faint.

So I did.  
>-<p>

Tee Hee! I hope you liked my story!

There's obvious attraction between Lizzie and Legolas, don't you think?-

**It was terrifying, if I didn't convey it clearly enough. Being forced to say such things. Ugh**.

-My next chapter of 'LOVE AND BABIES WITH AN ELF-**Thank me for changing** **the** **title**- WHO'S TOTES HOT' should be out next week!

Love ya babes!

3 PrettyGirly14-

**send help ASAP**-


	2. Chapter 2

A white ceiling.

When I awoke, that was the first thing I saw. I closed my eyes, not used to the light, before blearily opening them, and slowly getting used to the light.

Vampire. Oh god I was a vampire. The light hurt too much for me not to be one. Pressing the palms of my hands to my eyes helped. Yeah, that felt better. Slowly, sleep was calling back to me...

_CRASH!_

All thoughts of sleep were obliterated in that one moment of noise. Gentle murmuring could be heard from the outside world. Stupid outside world.

I looked around the room I was in, and came up with one thought: where the hell am I? Backtracking helps. Okay, detention, going home, fabulous pink car... Wake up, on a particually wet patch of ground, in weird clothes, Prettyboy (Not Legolas, he doesn't exist) comes in, on a majestic horse, I get possessed by some weird-ass talking thing and to top it all off, I played the 'Maiden-In-Distress' role.

Maybe it was all a dream, and I was in a coma. Yup. That's my story. But the room I was in, it was definitely not a hospital. God dammit, my parents paid for private health insurance! Where are the IVs and beeping thingamajigs and my oh-so-worried family, just waiting to tell me how worried they were.

Nothing. There was nothing like that. Maybe I had been kidna-

My train of thought was interrupted by the door (wow, that is one pretty door. All white, with gold carving and pretty leaves) opening, and a tall dark-haired man striding in. Also, may I mention, he was wearing a dress. (I was later corrected that no, that is not a dress, those are robes. Isn't it funny how 'robes' is a plural, but dress isn't. Moving on)

The tall, long-haired, decidedly grand person looked at me. We held a staring competition, of which I totally won.

Grand Man decided to forfeit the staring comp, and talk at me.

"You are awake." Huh, well no shit. I decided to combat Captain Obvious with Lieutenant Sarcasm.

"Oh. Really. I had no idea." Grand Man scowled at me, before moving on.

"My name is Alrond, Lord of Rivendale." I stared. I blinked. I had to correct him. I had to.

"You...You pronounced your name wrong... It's 'Elrond, Lord of Rivendell'."

I swear, in that second, the universe broke. Elrond looked at me with unseeing eyes, his arms fell to his sides from where he had been clasping them in front of himself, and the world just... Well... Noped the hell out... The room blurred, and Elrond walked out of the room, backwards. It was like going back through time. Which, I'm telling you now, it technically was. Don't worry. I'll explain that later. Well, not me. Someone else will.

After several seconds of the world's 'noping', everything returned to normal. No blurry room, no backwards-walking Elrond. I blinked. Once, twice, three times I blinked. I opened and closed my mouth in shock. All the usual signs of 'what is happening in this world'. I must have been really doped up. God, I love morphine.

The door opened again, and Elrond walked in again. He looked at me. We had another staring competition. That lordly dude is asking to be beaten into a bloody pulp.

"You are awake." I chose to not dignify that with a response. "I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell." Huh. He took my advice.

"I... Uh... Hi? It's nice to meet you? Mister Elrond, sir?" Oh god, the awkward strikes again. At least I wasn't being possessed.

"What is your name?" Wow, straight to the point.

"Uh..." Please don't get possessed, please don't get possessed, please,please, pleasepleaseplease! "I'm Elizabeth. Uh... Elizabeth Anderson... But... Um... Call me Lizzie?" It was a gift, my mother once said, to have the ability to make a statement sound as though it were a question. Apparently it was a gift I had, as demonstrated now.

Staring reigned once more. There was a silence between us. Not awkward as much as... Competetive. To see who would win the staring competition.

Elrond broke the silence. "Lady Lizzie, was it?" Yes! I'm a lady! "You seem to be in fine health. You are free to roam the halls. Lunch should be served in a few hours. You had best hurry when it's time, before the Hobbits eat everything."

My heart lifted at the last sentence. Food. I loved food. Not that I was fat, merely chubby. To this day, I claim the chubb was me being a 'growing girl'. No, you are not allowed to tell me otherwise.

Elrond, once again, glacefully grided out. This time, the right way around. Wait. Gracefully glided. That's better.

Once he was gone, I pushed back the blankets, and gingerly stepped out of my bed. A quick glance down told me that I was in a simple white dress... Thing... Middle Earth is old-fashioned. To go out in this would be appalling to them. 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. I didn't want to be offending those who were going to give me food.

I looked around, and noticed a cupboard in the corner of the room. I hobbled to wards it -not all of us are daisies in the morning- and opened it. Inspection of this cupboard told me that no, it wasn't a cupboard, but a wardrobe. A wardrobe filled to the brim with dresses. I'm not a girly girl. But dear god, this amount of dresses made me feel giddy.

I pulled out the first dress I saw. Purple. With green sequins. How the hell did Middle Earth get access to sequins? The dress was ugly. No matter, it was only the first.

Second dress. An atrocious shade of pink. It was so frilly, I think a ballerina would throw up.

Third dress. I closed my eyes, and opened them slowly, hoping for a stereotypical 'it's the perfect dress' moment. It was urple. Not purple. Just urple. I screamed, and threw it on the ground. Gods above, it was evil!

I hunted around, pulling out tight, glittery, frilly dresses in every shade of colour your brain could understand, as well as some it couldn't. If it had a nice colour, it was a size negative four. If it looked like it would fit, it came from the depths of hell. I had to settle for a blue dress, with gold sequins (again, how?) that was several sizes too tight. I squeezed into it, and dear god, I could hardly breath. I gave up on shoes. Nothing in that stupid elf wardrobe would fit my feet.

I turned around, and in the opposite corner lay a mirror. Where the hell did that come from. No, seriously. There was a nondescript chair there before. I walked up to it, hands on my chest to try and help me breathe.

I screamed. My hair was _yellow. _How was that humanly possible? My hair was brown. This hair wasn't even blonde. It was yellow. Like sunflowers. My eyes were purple. Why weren't they brown? No seriously. Even worse, my hair and eyes now clashed. Badly.

The dress. I couldn't describe it. It was wrong. It was tight in all the wrong places. Somehow, it pushed my breasts up, and squeezed them together. I don't even know how, but it got tight over my butt, before loosening when actual leg began.

It was a dress for the sues. I looked like a sue. I fell to the ground, clutching my head, and muttered to myself. "I am not a sue. I have brown hair and brown eyes. This is all just a dream. Just a dream. I'm Lizzie Anderson. I'm not some princess from another land. I will not fall for hot guys. I am not a sue. I have brown hair..."

I'm not sure how long I stayed there. Maybe an hour. I was scared. I was alone. I wasn't myself. Anything that defined who I was was gone. Poof. Gone.

Once I got a grip on myself, I stood up. I walked to the door. I didn't want to be near the foul dresses.

I opened the door, stepped out, and slammed it shut. Before me lay a hallway. And what I saw there immediately took away my foul mood. The hallway had rooms on one side, and the entire segment of building was shaped like a square. In the middle of all these rooms, lay a courtyard. There was small stony footpath winding its way between varieties of beautiful bushes, some filled with exotic-looking flowers, others just tufts of shrub.

Ignoring the pretty flowers, I turned in favour of finding food. I rushed to one of the generic elfs that were walking about, and was told that lunch was in twenty minutes. I then asked for the directions three times. I was a scout, but I was damned if I was any good at directions.

I rushed about, asking for directions several times, I landed in front of a door, that was at least the size of two of me. Pushing them open, I was greeted with the hall, exactly as I had imagined. A spacious area, overlooking the forest surrounding Rivendell. Several tables long tables were spread around, each holding an array of people. The majority were elves, as this was Rivendell, but there were others, all seperate from each other.

Looking around the space, I could see the characters from the Fellowship sitting in their individual areas. The Hobbits, sitting closest to the Food. Boromir, seated with the scarce Men present. Aragorn sitting in the corner, probably angsting.

I stood in the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest self-consciously. It was a lot to take in. As I was staring,short figure brushed past me. A short Dwarf walked past me, before coming to a stop a few feet ahead of me. He turned back to look at me, just as I got a realisation of who said Dwarf was. Gimli son of Glòin looked at me, before shaking his head slowly.

"Not another one of those Sue stories. Right lass, who are ya? Aragorn's long lost sister? Sauron's daughter? A half elf from Lothlorien? Or are you one of those 'teenage girls from Earth'."

I stared back at him. Why did he know I was an insert? Because, let's face it, I was.

"I...I...I..." no, resist the urge. Fight it. Keep control! "Can I hug you?" And I failed... "Wait! No, sorry, ignore that. The last one. How do you know? Wait, how do I get back?"

Gimli, the sweet Dwarf he is, just shook his head and chuckled. "Ah, lass. You have no idea what you're doing do you? We Dwarves know what's going on, more so than the Elves do." Gimli turned to head towards the Dwarf table. There were no designated tabled, but naturally, each race gravitated towards those of their own kind.

I trailed after Gimli, watching the rest of the room with wide eyes. I look towards the tree hugger - sorry, the Elf table, and was surprised (well, not really) to see Legolas looking at me following Gimli with the most peculiar look on his face. It was like he had swallowed a mouthful of salt.

I jogged to catch Gimli -quite the feat in this dress- and saw he was giving me a look.

"What?" I questioned him. He gave me the look again, before shushing me. He shushed me. He actually shushed me. I gave Gimli an incredulous look, before sitting down at the small square table he had lead me to.

Gimli looked around him, before saying in hushed tones, "You have to be quiet."

"Why?" I hissed back.

"Because the Suethour is here now. She's watching this."

I gave him a questioning glance. He understood what I meant through the look.

"The Suethour. We're in a story right now. The world is completely bent to what the author wants. And she wants you to 'get with' Legolas."

I looked at him. I blinked. I gave a quick glance to where Legolas was, and saw him staring in disbelief.

"I need more information! What you're saying does not compute!"

Gimli groaned and put his head in his hands. "Since you came here, is there anything you can't explain?"

I thought back, and noticed the inconsistency with reality that seemed accompany Middle Earth. "When I first met Legolas, I was possessed by something, and I made me say I was from some far off country, and I was the princess of it. It was scary."

Gimli nodded. "What happened was the Suethour taking control. That happens when she doesn't like the way the characters are working, so she puts words into their mouths to have the plot going the way she would like it."

Oh. That made sense. "What about the time I corrected Elrond's name, and time went backwards?"

"That was the Suethour editing her work. It's going to be hard for you if she checks her work."

I groaned and slammed my head on the table. "Hard. That means work. In what way will it be hard?" I hated work. A lot. I knew I should have brought my PE uniform to school...

"If it was a stupid Suethour, you may have had some free choice when it came to boh turning points in the plot. If she goes back and checks ger work, you're going to find it hard to do anything other that what the Suethour."

I felt like crying. "Right, any words of advice?"

"If the Sue doesn't like the way the story is going, She'll abandon it. It's best to go with what she wants, lest you never find your way home. And when the Sue isn't watching, most of us go back to being who we really are. Mot of us have no idea why happens when the Sue takes over."

I was doomed. Screwed. I may as well have been the One Ring, and be on my way to be 'cast into the fire'.

"So I have to bow to the Suethour, lest I never get home?"

"Aye, lass."

"I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"Aye, just a little."

"Thank you for your time. If you excuse me, I must find a river or pond to drown myself in. If the Suethour lets me, that is. She may do some voodoo magic to make me a zombie. It was nice knowing you."

I was joking, of course. I didn't think Gimli knew that, though. He was looking at me with a look akin to horror. I stood up and left with what was hopefully a flair of awesome, but was probably a flair of fail.

As I was contemplating various methods of finding my room (including, but not limited to: kidnapping Elrond, attacking the next elf I see, and besieging the kitchen until I got answers), I felt a tap on my shoulder. Looking behind me, I saw a tall, brown haired man from Gondor. Boromir gave me a smile, and as much as I loathe to admit it, my heart fluttered at that charming smile.

"Good afternoon, my fair lady," Boromir said, "May I have the honor of escorting you to your next location?"

And that is how pick up lines work in Middle Earth. I turned fully around, and gave Boromir a smile. "Oh... Um... Of course, my lord?" Questions, again "Only, I would like the pleasure of knowing who is escorting me to my room."

I hate to admit it, but that wasn't the sue. That was _me. _What? I needed an idea of how to get to my room. You can't blame me! Beside, in these times, if she has boobs, she's of marriageable age. It's not pedophilia! Why am I even defending myself?

"I apologise, I should have offered my name. I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward-prince of Gondor, Captain of the White Tower, and many other titles. May I know the name of the beautiful lady I have the honor of escorting?

Okay, he was shameless. And beautifu? Not in this dress, I'm not. Wait. It's the power of the Sue! In Sue fics, Boromir has a 50/50 chance of becoming obsessive, a shameless flirt, or a would-be rapist. Poor man.

okay, this time the Suethour took notice.

"I'm Elizabeth, daughter of Modnar, Heir to the Throne of America."

THAT. THAT THERE WAS THE SUE. Boromir looked impressed at the words 'heir' and 'throne'. Not that I liked them.

"Well then, Your Highness," this brought a pained look to my face, "I shall escort you to your room. I'm assuming you're in the guests accommodation?"

I nodded my head in confirmation, and then we walked to my room. We talked of mere pleasantries along the wa, and I managed to worm stories of Gondor out of Boromir.

As we reached my door (I got here, bless Boromir) I stood in front to ask him something.

"If it's not too much of a hassle, would you be able to wame me for breakfast in the morning? Just bash on the door and I should wake up."

Boromir gave me the strangest look he could muster. "Pardon me, My Lady, but it is only three o'clock in the afternoon. Are you really going to sleep?"

I countered his strange look with one of my own. "Yes. I'm tired. Good night!" And with that, I waltzed into my room. At least I tried. Damn tight dress.


End file.
